Sweetest Sadness
by The Hummingbird's Song
Summary: Nothing Victoire does works out, but she still plans to go down with the ship.


This was written for the Failed Relationships Competition. I don't own anything you see here. Jo can claim it all. Please pay attention to the dates, since I decided to skip around a bit. Okay, happy reading.

* * *

_Tuesday, June 16th, 2020 _

Everybody seemed so happy, so exhilarated. Victoire forcefully shoved past James and Al, who were sniggering together about something terribly funny. They shut up abruptly when she passed, and she caught a glimpse of James narrowing his eyes shrewdly at her. She hated to admit it, but he was no fool. He probably knew exactly what was going through her head.

She passed her mother and father, who were sharing some Firewhiskey. They looked so ecstatic, throwing effulgent smiles at her. Even _Dominique _seemed to be beside herself with bliss - something Victoire never thought she would witness. In fact, it seemed to Victoire that she was the only one there who was not suffering from an unyielding feeling of euphoria. Here she was to ruin everything, to pierce through the joyful atmosphere with her five-inch heels.

She didn't want to see the delight on everybody's face, though it was so reasonable to expect people to be happy. A wedding is a wedding, after all. But what about her own happiness? Did she not have a duty to take care of herself first?

"Victoire!" James was running after her, his messy hair sticking out at every angle. He skidded to a halt in front of her, nearly losing his balance on the gleaming marble floor. "Don't do anything stupid," he implored.

Victoire blinked back at him. Of all people, she would have thought James would have approved of disruption. "Where is he?" she said icily.

James bit his lip. "He's upstairs," he said with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "But I don't really think he wants to see you -" he started to say, but Victoire had already wheeled around and continued purposefully, slipping between boisterously happy wedding guests, tucking into their drinks and laughing loudly among themselves about how wonderful it was.

Victoire hoisted her heavy skirted and started up the long staircase, feeling her heart begin to thud against her ribcage. All she could hear was her own thumping heartbeat, and she felt light-headed for a second. There was a lump in her throat the size of a Quaffle, and when she had clambered to the top of the staircase, she clutched onto the banister and took a few deep breaths, trying to gather her thoughts.

She could hear the distant chatter from the guests. It had annoyed her so much, and now it seemed so far away. She closed her eyes for a second, aware of the painful sensation in her chest. Her mother _had _warned her not to take the dress in too much or she wouldn't be able to breathe.

She glanced back at the door again - she knew Teddy was behind it, and he had no idea how much thought she was giving this. Some things never change, she supposed. He never paid her enough attention. It was almost like he never thought she deserved to be treated the way she was. He just never seemed _bothered._

She always had hope. She had never once seen him fall over himself trying to flirt with a girl. It was encouraging at the start, but it rapidly began to perturb Victoire when girls just seemed to gravitate towards him anyway. He wasn't like James, who would flirt with anything in a skirt, or Albus, who girls seemed to like it when he was just awkwardly himself, or Fred, who felt that the best way to show affection was to be as mean as you could.

He had never bought into that sort of antics. He was nice, and collected all the time. Not once had she seen him try too hard at anything, or been able to catch him off guard. It drove her insane.

She thought back to all the times he reminded her of how unassuming he was, as she gripped the banister tighter for fear that she'd fall over. He was so . . . _genuine. _And because of that, she could never understand how he had never expressed a genuine interest in her. Why didn't he care about her as much as she cared about him?

She let out a quivering breath, leaning up against the banister. The ground felt like it was about to whipped out from under her. She could hear her cousin Fred's voice from the other side of the door. He was laughing loudly, and though Victoire held her breath as she waited to hear Teddy, no sound came. With a sigh, she balled her hand into a fist and knocked, tucking a stray curl behind her ear quickly.

Fred's face appeared at the door, and when he saw her, he couldn't stop his face falling. He sighed. "What do you want?" he hissed.

"Relax, Freddie," said Victoire coolly. "I just want to talk to him."

Fred quirked one eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling that this is a somewhat private conversation?" he muttered under his breath, scowling at her.

"Because it is," she retorted quietly. "So get lost."

Fred surveyed her for a moment, his face pulled into an angry expression. Eventually, he threw up his hands in defeat and clicked his tongue at her. "Fine," he snapped, standing back to let her into the room. "It's your funeral."

"Yes, thank you," said Victoire monotonously. "Whatever would I do without your unparalleled wisdom?" she quipped. "Now, go undo the knot in your wand."

Shaking his head in exasperation, Fred left, slamming the door behind him. Teddy looked up from tying his shoelaces. His brow furrowed when he saw her, and he looked at her quizzically, like he was waiting for her to speak. And she tried.

Her mouth was suddenly as dry as sandpaper, and she moistened her lips, racking her brains desperately for something to say. She couldn't bear it - he was in his finest dress robes. His turquoise hair was less vibrant than usual, and the tips were a soft honey colour. He'd even taken off his necklace - or rather, a tatty piece of string with a dragon fang hanging from it, which had been a present from her Uncle Charlie for his seventeenth birthday. He _never _took that thing off.

He blinked at her expectantly, but seemed to realize that she wasn't going to talk unless he galvanized her into it. "Vic? Everything alright?" he said brightly, just stopping himself before he raked his fingers through his hair. He clearly didn't want to mess it up.

She swallowed the lump in her throat painfully. It was now or never. No point beating around the Venomous Tentacula. "Don't do this," she choked out, feeling as though someone was shredding her vocal chords. He blinked at her for a few seconds, and sighed, standing up.

"Victoire, please don't start," he said in a low voice. "Don't go causing a scene just because you're not getting my way."

"I wouldn't call _this _'not getting my way'," Victoire replied hotly.

"Clearly," said Teddy. "Don't have a hissy fit, aren't you a little old -"

"Why are you doing this?" Victoire cut across him sharply, placing her hands on her hips. He looked a little put out at being interrupted. He pulled a face in annoyance and rolled his eyes.

"Because it's my choice," he told her calmly. "Don't go causing a fuss, Victoire. You're only going to make a fool of yourself."

He clearly didn't know her very well. Pursing her lips, Victoire walked over to where he was standing. "That's right," she said in a small voice. "I forgot you don't like drama." Teddy wouldn't look her in the eye. He had more or less told her was that he wasn't interested in someone who caused so much drama. But it wasn't _her _fault. She didn't look for drama - drama always seemed to find her. She suspected it was her Veela blood.

"Vic . . ." he said warningly. But she didn't want to hear anymore. Her hands found his hair and tangled themselves in it, she pulled him down to her and pulled his mouth onto hers, taking special care to mess up his hair as best she could.

And for the very first time, Teddy didn't let it last a second. "In the name of _Merlin, _Vic," he exclaimed furiously, taking her firmly by the shoulders and pushing her as far away from him as he could. "You tell me that _I _act childish. Quit acting like such a baby."

Victoire felt her cheeks burn. "Teddy . . . "

"I knew I shouldn't have invited you," he said scathingly. She had never seen him lose his temper before - in fact, she had never seen him act anything other than completely calm and collected. "I knew you'd have a temper tantrum."

"Then why did you?" Victoire said pointedly.

"Because not everything is about you!" he bellowed frustratedly, attempting to flatten out his hair again. He turned away from her, which Victoire was grateful for. Her cheeks were hot, and she could feel tears pierce the back of her eyes. "Can you please just . . . Just go, Vic."

And she did. She didn't know what else she could do except leave the room in a huff, pulling the door out as forcefully as she could. James and Fred stood outside the door, each with their arms folded across their chest, wearing matching expressions.

"How'd it go?" said Fred, somewhat smugly. Victoire pushed past him, willing herself not to cry, not in front of all these people. She took a seat at the back of the hall, and didn't budge until the ceremony started. She wouldn't leave - she had more dignity than that. She was too proud to simply escape. She would sit here and look him in the eye while he made the biggest mistake he could ever make.

She kept her eyes transfixed on him the entire time, up until the point where he took a step back, disoriented, frowning at his shoes.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, gazing around him like he had woken up in a strange place, and didn't know where to go. "I'm sorry," he said again. Victoire sat up a little straighter. Her heart was hammering so loudly, she could barely hear what was going on. All she knew was that hope was unfurling in her chest. "I'm sorry, I can't."

And then he was gone. She wanted to run after him out of the room, but her mother was keeping a tight hold on her wrist, so she didn't budge. It didn't matter. There would be time to talk later. There would be all the time in the world.

XXX

_Thursday, 25th December, 2014_

"Do the pig snout one again, Teddy!" eight-year-old Albus laughed, absent-mindedly flicking some carrots across the table.

"No," James said. "Do the duck one!"

Victoire rolled her eyes at the two boys, and at Lily, who was watching them gleefully.

"Come on, Ted," said Harry, chuckling. "You can change your face around when you've finished your food."

"You remember when his mother used to do that?" remarked Ginny, laughing to herself.

Victoire huffed. Yes, it was so terribly funny. Except that it was so immature, and she expected more from Teddy. He was so sophisticated. Even though he teased her about being so uptight and spastic, and made crude jokes about how high maintenance she was, or ask her on a daily basis would she like some help dismounting her high horse, she still admired Teddy more than anybody.

The problem was, he knew it. He wasn't _mean. _But he shied away from the topic. It was like he wasn't comfortable, and he didn't even want to look at her. What baffled Victoire was that he didn't seem to _want _to worship her the way everybody else does. She was only in fourth year, but she was used to every boy in school tripping themselves up to talk to her. She had to admit that she sort of expected him to, and when he didn't, it drove her crazy.

"Oh, not at the table," she said, in her haughtiest voice. Ginny looked at Victoire, perplexed. She shrugged her shoulders. "It's childish." She had to be grown up. Teddy was two whole years older than her.

Teddy raised his eyebrows at her, and in a cold silence, went back to his dinner. James and Al looked put out. Victoire went back to her dinner, her nose up in the air.

It was later in the evening; Harry and Ginny had lit the fire, and Victoire snuck into the room quietly. It was fairly obvious that James was Teddy's favourite cousin. Just another thing to confuse her. He was just gone eleven, and he was immature and annoying. Tossing her long blond hair over her shoulder, she sat down beside him, curling her legs up under her.

He turned his head and blinked at her expectant expression. One thing Teddy never got was offended, no matter how much something annoyed him. He never got mad at her, or told her to change. That was why she liked him so much.

But he sighed, and sidled a little away from her like he felt stifled. "C'mon, kid," he said gently. "It's time to get over yourself." _Kid. _That's what he said. _Kid. _

XXX

_Wednesday, June 26th, 2019_

The honey jar Victoire was holding crashed to the floor. The words hadn't come from Teddy's mouth. She was sure of it.

"You're sure?" said Harry. Dominique blinked at her older sister. They were staying at Harry and Ginny's for the week - her mother and father had visited Egypt. Her dad missed the tombs sometimes.

Both girls peeked their heads around the door, just as Ginny appeared in the doorway. "What crashed?" she demanded. Dominique looked accusingly at Victoire, who spluttered incomprehensibly for a minute.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "_Reparo," _she muttered, pointing her wand at the shards on the floor. "Please be careful, girls."

Victoire scowled, her gaze following Ginny out of the room, back to the living room, where Teddy lounged casually in the armchair. That's all he ever was. Casual. Every little detail like that was more irksome than Victoire cared to admit.

"Of course," said Teddy cheerfully, looking more excited than Victoire had ever seen him. "And I can't apparrate," he went on. "And I never really liked brooms. So I'll probably go the old-fashioned way."

"You will write though, won't you?" said Ginny anxiously.

"Oh, he will," said Harry. "You're not allowed take off around the word for a whole year with no contact."

Teddy grinned.

"He's leaving!" breathed Victoire, feeling her chest contract.

Dominique snorted. "_Vous avez la malchance là, ma soeur." _

Victoire took a deep breath. He couldn't just _leave. _What about her? What was _she _supposed to do? She'd been waiting all this time. "_Merde!"_

XXX

_Friday, 28th August, 2020_

"Oh, _mon Dieu!" _exclaimed Dominique, shaking her head at her sister, who wouldn't even look up. She had been lying in bed all day, with a box of tissues within reach. Her pillowcase had black marks all over it from her mascara running when she cried, and her hair was in disarray and knotted, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She felt numb, right down to her core.

She shivered, pulling the ragged blanket more firmly around her shoulders. Her stomach was convulsing painfully every time she thought of her conversation with Teddy. She had thought that after he had run out on his wedding - well she had expected that it was because of _her. _She remembered the first time she'd kissed him, at King's Cross before she started her seventh year.

She remembered how he had told her how much he missed the school. She remembered asking him would he miss her. She didn't think she would ever forget the way he grinned at her. She could remember clearly the feeling of his arms around her, the cold wall against her back. She remembered her hands tangled in his hair, which had been electric blue at the time. She remembered tugging at the string around his neck, the feel of the little dragon fang he always wore on it. That little fang, it was completely him. She felt like she was holding his soul in her hand when she had tugged gently on the fang.

And she remembered that _James, the little twerp, _had interrupted them. Not just caught them, but actually interrupted them. She realized that hindsight was a beautiful thing, as she remembered now the sheepish, almost shameful look on his face. His hair had gone momentarily red, and now she realized, his face had too. It was like he had been embarrassed to be caught with her.

She remembered the way he grumbled for James to get lost, and smiled back at her. She had felt so safe there, one arm still around her. She felt like she had belonged there, and she belonged with him. And she had hoped for a second that he had finally started to feel that way too. And the way he was smiling at her, she couldn't help but grin back.

She was used to that smirk, she got it from a lot of boys, but not from _him. _Never from him. Usually, she was used to him telling her to act like herself more often.

"_If you'd act like yourself more, maybe this could have worked." _

But she was completely herself. Who else was she going to be exactly? But today - well, that conversation had been the worst mistake she'd ever made. She felt like he'd torn out of her heard and ripped it to pieces in front of her. All the things he'd said . . . That she was spoiled, that she thought she was superior. She never thought like that. She didn't bother wasting her time thinking about other people.

But she needed him to see the real her. But he was somehow convinced that she hadn't been the real her in years.

"_I knew you before you got all haughty, you know. No wonder I can't take you seriously anymore." _

Take her seriously! She couldn't have been more serious! She had never been more serious about anything, not the way she had been serious about Teddy. But that didn't seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter.

"Teddy really had you right," Dominique went on, shaking her head at Victoire's pathetic state. "You need to get over yourself."

"Don't preach down to me," moaned Victoire into her pillow. She couldn't bear to hear Dominique act like she knew it all, when she really knew very little. She didn't have the mental capacity to handle right now. She just wanted to lie down on her bed, alone in the dark, and wait to drift away into sleep, hoping that when she woke up, something could still be salvaged from all of this. How could none of it be real, when she felt so strongly about him?

Dominique scowled, looking more annoyed with Victoire than she ever had. "This is exactly what he was talking about."

"What is?" said Victoire sharply, sitting up in her bed, pushing a fluffy pillow onto the floor.

"All this drama," said Dominique imploringly. She sat down at the end of Victoire's bed, seething. "He really did mean it when he said it wasn't real. You need to get over yourself, and get over it. He thinks you're obnoxious, and stuck up. So _stop _acting obnoxious and stuck up."

Drama. Victoire couldn't deny that she liked drama. It was fun, it was entertaining. But she had never intended any of this to be so painful. She didn't realize she could be so clobbered. But Teddy - he didn't seem bothered at all. He wasn't hurting in the slightest. He could loathe drama all he liked - maybe she had thought that they would balance each other out some day, and there wouldn't _have _to be any drama, because they would fall into place so perfectly, that it would be so easy.

"He's just confused," muttered Victoire, allowing her head to fall back on the pillow again.

Dominique sighed. "Look, Victoire. He rolls his eyes at you when you yell in French. He tells you you're up on a high horse every day."

"Dominique, what would you even know about it?" Victoire snapped. "You don't even know what love is -"

"Neither do you!" protested Dominique. "And Teddy knows it. This whole romance that you've invented -" Dominique cut herself off, searching for words. "It's always just been something you created, it's always been in your head!

Because she had nothing better to do, and she didn't want to face the fact that there could be truth in what Dominique was saying, Victoire rolled her eyes. She couldn't accept that this had always been all in her head.

But it made a lot of sense. She had tried talking to Teddy. It had been almost two months, and Teddy still hadn't recovered from cancelling his wedding at the last second. Victoire had expected them to be _together _by now. But she was still waiting for something - anything. And he hadn't even wanted to talk to her.

"Vic, he didn't want you. He called off the wedding," Dominique said pointedly. "And he still doesn't want you. He never will. "

He had told her as much, only a few hours ago at most, but what seemed like a lifetime ago. She tried her hardest to block it out, but there was too much truth in it. It was too cold, too harsh, too cruel for her to block out. The pain was too real, it stung too deep. Victoire felt like someone had caught her in a strangehold and stabbed a knife into her heart from the back.

"Go away," she mumbled to Dominique, and with a frustrated outcry, Dominique flounced out of the room.

He was gone again, back to Greece or Egypt or Rome or wherever it was that he loved on his first escapade around the world. He had told her that he wanted to go back there, because he needed to find somewhere he really felt like he belonged. And that wasn't with her. It had never been with her. Victoire swallowed, feeling out of place in the accusing, unsympathetic silence that had descended on her room the moment Dominique walked out of it.

He had never took her seriously. Not ever. He was as cool as the ocean, while she had obsessed over the lack of obsession on his part.

But for once in her life, Dominique was right. He would never want her. And he would never give her what she wanted.

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Feedback is appreciated, of course. I had to cut about half of this off to get it to a reasonable length, so let me know what you thought of what was left. Thanks for reading!


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